


Dash her on the paving stones

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [114]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3480023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(2/4 Sith War) Far away, on the other side of the galaxy, Ventress is held prisoner by the man who seeks to tear the galaxy apart (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dash her on the paving stones

They keep her in the dark. What little light does hit her eyes makes Ventress cringe and it is gone before they adjust.

The door is only ever opened when food is pushed in or curses and obscenities are hurled at her by passersby. It is the only time she sees natural light. She hates it, but it is nothing compared to the unnatural glow which illuminates the cell for hours at a time.

Hours accompanied by Viscous and searing pain.

When first the Son brought her to the dathomiri man, she thought it was a joke. Though the ways of the nightsisters are long gone, no maleling has ever had the power to imprison one of them. 

The joke is how wrong she was. Viscous didn’t just take advantage of her weakened state, he toyed with it. Healing her wound and then ripping it open again was just the beginning.

The first time he brought a lightsaber to her cell Ventress was ready to die.

But it was like no lightsaber Ventress has ever seen or felt. He mutilates the ancient weapon as much as he mutilates her.

Somewhere between the cutting and the cauterizing, Ventress has to scream – blood flows freely from the part of the wound that doesn’t burn closed. She does not beg him to stop; she will not give him the satisfaction.

“Needs more work,” he remarks, plainly dissatisfied.

“Take your time,” she coughs.

Ventress embraces the return of the darkness when Viscous finally leaves. Her head rolls back against the wall, neck unable to support its weight.

What more could she have possibly done? What did she have to do for the Son to choose her for this mission? What happened to the assurances He made her on Umbara?

A voice rises from the depths of the universe. _Did you really think I cared for you, Asajj – that you could trust me and I would protect you?_

“You promised.”

_I lied._

One by one, every betrayal she ever suffered rushes back to her. Dooku, Savage, Mother Talzin, the feckless pirate gangs, she survived them all. She’s still here while all those who betrayed her fell through the cracks.

“Then why am I still here?”

_Because you trusted me and trust is so easily taken advantage of. It is the province of my Sister – it is why you were never truly worthy of the Dark Side._

Blood runs cold. Hair prickles at the nape of her neck. This is the last time she’ll make that mistake.

“Get out.”

If there were any light Ventress would see the Son’s lip curl.

_How unfortunate it took you so long to understand._

Ventress lashes at Him with unkempt nails ( _her only weapon_ ), clawing at empty air. The Son is gone, but His laugh echoes between the close walls.

\----------

They drag her out of her cell as they dragged the truth from her lips ( _as she dragged it from Skywalker’s granddaughter_ ), painfully and without warning. They do it to torture her – humiliate her. They don’t understand how little she cares anymore.

She does not bother to lift her head. The faces are a blur anyway, though she recognizes every one of them as dathomiri.

If it wouldn’t cause her stitches to burst, Ventress would laugh at the irony of being held at their mercy.

They drop her in the center of a ring.

A heavily-booted foot lands a kick to her gut.

Ventress doubles over.

“Get up, witch.” He spits at her back.

“Fuck you,” she tries to fill her voice with as much venom as possible.

The maleling rips at the collar tattered shirt, “Watch your tongue or lose it.”

“Pity you still need me to talk.”

“Not for very much longer,” says a new voice, one Ventress has come to know too well.

Every one of the maleling in the circle takes a knee. Had she known her torturer commanded the wills of so many, she would have tried harder to resist.

But the skin tingles around the fresh burn scars on her arms, reminding her why she couldn’t hold out longer; each one bubbled and blistered unnaturally. The festering flesh made her sick and lose what little food was in her stomach.

“It’s time for you to serve your purpose.”

“And what is that?”

“Lend credence to my announcement to the galaxy.” He almost puffs with pride.

“You can spread it without me.”

Viscous laughs. “You know that won’t work. Katan already tried. I need –” he sucks his teeth, searching for the right word “– verification. And seeing as you’re the only one who has that, you are vital.

Ventress almost flinches.

“The Son has deemed it time for us to come into the light.”

A message is recorded to be left at every attack site and sent to the highest governments. No mistakes this time: the galaxy will know what face was hidden behind the mask of Darth Vader and they will know Viscous stands beside the Son.

When they are done with her, Ventress is tossed back in her cell – forgotten.

\----------

She is thin enough to slip through the bars, though she is too weak to run. If she wasn’t so frail, Ventress could go free again.

She wastes away in her cage, her jaw slack and her mouth dry. She can barely turn her head to watch the commotion of Viscous’s return.

Ventress stares at the blackened ceiling, her back to the bonfire.

Viscous laughs triumphantly. His followers cheer.

“Tonight was a victory! A victory against death! And a victory against those who would keep the knowledge of how to overturn death against us!” he boasts.

A noise of disgust escapes Ventress.

How Viscous hears it over the roar from his disciples, she’ll never know. He swoops down on her, “Is our prisoner unimpressed by our success?”

“You’re not really winning. Not when you’ve taken your main opponents out of the picture.”

“With Skywalker and Tano out of the way, the Order is chaos. The Republic is tearing them apart.”

“Hollow,” she insists. “Your victory is hollow.”

“Like your cheek.” She ignores the snickering; Viscous continues, “Tell me, Ventress, what did you intend to use that information for, if not to tear down Skywalker’s regime? Why leave your cozy prison cell, if you only wanted the satisfaction of knowing?”

Brutish like Savage, yes. Clever like Maul, but less so. Viscous cannot think for himself – has no plans outside of what the Son tells him to. ( _Dathomiri men have never been blessed with an over abundance of cunning._ ) He can’t mock her lack of foresight when he has no vision of his own.

Ventress refuses to answer.

“I should have suspected as much from a _nightsister_ ,” he says it with as much contempt for her as she has for them. “Scheming tricksters making plans they never intended to follow through on.”

He stands, redirecting to his attention to the troops.

“The time is right! We take Coruscant now! We are not many, but we will rally support! The Republic has set a precedent. It will be easy to sway others to our cause and remove the rest from our path!

“Our new weapon is almost ready; soon we will be able to implement it in our war against death!”

A roar of approval sounds throughout the camp.

Seeing that his men are ready for action, Viscous sneers one last thing, “Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing your old cell soon enough.”

\----------

His victims lay splayed at Viscous’s feet, piling one on top of another.

The chancellor’s white robes stand out. They stain with blood.

Black eyes land on Ventress. She’s next.

As she is marched to the center of the chamber, Viscous brandishes his new lightsaber. Finally complete, the weapon is less menacing to Ventress.

It does not hum or sing like the red blades she called her own; it is soundless until its victims scream. Morbid curiosity makes Ventress wonder what sound it would make if it clashed against the weapon of a real enemy.

Her executioner leans in close and whispers in her ear, “If you had cooperated, you could have joined us.”

Despite weakness of bone and frailty of body, Ventress bites, “I’d rather the hell that waits for me below than the hell you’ll make here.”

Ventress bows her head, hoping for a clean death, but not expecting it ( _Viscous did not spend months developing his new toy to give her one_ ).

He will make it as bloody as all the rest.

The holo recorder switches on.

Viscous speaks into it, but where he addressed the other executions to the galaxy, this one is only to his followers, “The witch is of no further use to me. Betray me, challenge me, or try to hinder me in any way and this will be your fate.”

The lightsaber is thrust through her belly and dragged to the side.

Warm blood trickles from Ventress’s gut. She presses a hand to it, though there will be no stopping the bleeding; wooziness makes her unsteady.

Ventress looks down, laughing that anyone could faint at the site of their own blood.

Viscous seethes, shouting “Enough!” he rips through her with the bloodletter one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
